


How To Be A Dark Lord (In A Few Easy Steps)

by Halkyon_Blade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Dark Lord Harry Potter, Death (Character) - Freeform, Don't worry, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Master of Death, Master of Death Harry Potter, Mod, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Powerful Characters, Powerful Harry, The Deathly Hallows, Violence, but not TOO dark, harry knows things, hopefully, more to be added - Freeform, seriously, the voices know what they're doing, the voices told him, things might get dark later, this is a fix-it fic, totally self indulgent writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2019-06-29 19:42:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15736098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halkyon_Blade/pseuds/Halkyon_Blade
Summary: Harry made a deal. A deal he had no idea about until he died. With newfound knowledge, a new title and a new challenge, can he actually make a difference that would save more lives than take them?With great power comes great responsibility and all.Which is great for Harry, since there is actually someone he absolutely must save, even if he gets the burden of about a hundred Death Eaters under his wing as a result.These things happen.(only to Harry Potter)Title is a placeholder, probably. Pairings still undecided.THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS.It is not finished, and it may never be, as I wrote it on a whim. Read at your own risk.





	1. An Unexpected Turn of Things

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, please read the tags!! 
> 
> As stated in the summary, this is a work in progress I have absolutely NO IDEA what to do with, but I had too much fun writing it. Lets hope I will continue to do so. (I really wanna know what happens next, Self, please write more....!)
> 
> This story is 1000% self-indulgent writing of a magically overpowered Harry that fixes (or destroys) things as I see fit. There is little plot consideration outside what I find fun to write (althought I absolutely do aim for plot consistecy, this is not as random as I make it sound, hopefully). This fic is here to fix the holes in my heart and to cover for stories I've been looking to read but haven't found enough of.
> 
> You have been warned. 
> 
> This work has been inspired by many other works like:  
> \--[Eavesdropping Universe](https://archiveofourown.org/series/62628) by [HecatesKiss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HecatesKiss/pseuds/HecatesKiss)  
> (whose work I realised I unintentionally almost copied parts of without knowing it...!)  
> \--[Charming Universe](https://archiveofourown.org/series/37557) by [Lomonaaeren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomonaaeren/pseuds/Lomonaaeren)  
> \--Most works of the amazing [FalconLux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalconLux/pseuds/FalconLux)  
> and many **many** others under the _"Dark Lord Harry"_ , _"Master Of Death Harry Potter"_ and _"Harry Potter/Severus Snape"_ tags~!
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it~! :)

Harry opened his eyes to white fog. He blinked, several times, to clear the spots from his vision. He was supposed to be dead. He did not feel dead. Pinching himself caused a stinging pain to shoot up his arm and that was unexpected to say the least.

He turned his attention to his surroundings and with a start Harry realised that the scenery was one he was quite familiar with. King's Cross platform. The place was eerily silent and empty, and something Harry could not place stirred down his stomach. The sight of the station without the usual noise and life was a strange one. A white fog surrounded everything, the colours dull and washed out, grey. 

A sound drew Harry's attention to a nearby bench, peculiarly the only thing around slightly more corporeal looking. Leaning in close to inspect the small, dark lump under it, he recoiled. The small creature - baby? - did not seem to notice him as he took a few steps back, his hand covering his mouth in disgust. Was that… Voldemort? The snake like features in the tiny face and body were evidence enough to tell him that yes, it was. Was that truly all that was left of that severely split soul? Harry gagged, trying to take his eyes off the creature, when he bummed into something. Or rather someone. He whirled around, hand going for a non existent wand, and came face to face with the last person he'd ever expected to come and escort him at the crossroads. His old professor and mentor, the man that had both saved and condemned him, the man that was behind everything. Dumbledore. 

"Hello, my boy." The professor's eyes twinkled with joy and sorrow. "We meet again."

Harry attempted to get his voice back, to exclaim in rage about all the half truths, about all the secrets. To ask him about the reasons he did what he did. To yell at the man about how much he had missed him. He wanted to run up to him and hug him, because beneath everything, he was still a scared little boy that wished for nothing more than the man he had almost considered his grandfather to stroke his hair and tell him everything would be alright. 

The imposing black shadow that loomed, hovering and cloaked just paces behind the old man, however, stopped him from acting on that impulse. 

"Professor."

\----------------------------

Awareness came crawling back, as if swimming through clotted honey. Slowly, feeling returned to his limbs and he could feel the rocks and broken branches beneath his back digging into his flesh. The first thing he became aware of after the ringing between his ears subsided, was laughter. He recognised Voldemort’s hissing voice as it roared with delighted laughter, Bellatrix Lestrange’s shrill tone echoing his mirth with manic cackling. 

It made his brain hurt more than it already did. 

"Harry Potter is dead!" exclaimed the snake faced villain. "You! Confirm it!" 

Harry barely held back a sigh, staying still. ‘No such luck, Riddle’ thought Harry. 

Soft hands fluttered along his ribs and over his sternum. Hair ticked his nose as Narcissa Malfoy leaned her ear to his chest to listen for a heartbeat. Harry heard her breath catch and prepared for the inevitable.

"Is my dragon alive?" came the barely audible, unexpected whisper. Her nails dug into his chest, fingers too tight. 

"He's safe." was his equally quiet reply. She sagged against him in relief. As she moved to strand up, however, he stopped her, finger pressing against her hand. 

"Shrieking Sack. Snape, save him. I will be in your debt."

He poured some of his magic behind the words, so that only she could hear them. The muttering of the Death Eaters and Hagrid’s sobs could only cover so much.

Narcissa‘s eyes went wide and she squeezed her nails deeper into his flesh as answer. He let her move away this time. 

"No heartbeat, my Lord." Harry heard her announce. 

He almost smiled. 

\-----------

"HOW ARE YOU ALIVE ?!" Riddle roared in horror as Harry stepped into the light. His eyes skimmed over the gathered Death Eaters and noticed the absence of one Lady Malfoy. He allowed himself to smile. 

"A good question. To be answered at another time, however." He took a deep breath before the revenant of a man could recover. "Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort. I challenge you to a duel." Gasps of disbelief echoed around the Great Hall. "Full stakes."

"Foolish child. What could you possibly have that I would want?" Voldemort spat out, eyes glowing red with rage. 

"My life, for one. And a very, very old cloak. Perhaps a certain stone as well."

He could see the moment realization hit Voldemort. Of course he knew about the hallows, since he orchestrated Dumbledore’s demise just for the purpose of getting ownership of the Elder Wand. The Dark Lord was brilliant enough to make the connections and reach the correct conclusions. 

"Avada Kedavra!" 

Harry dodged the soaring curse and laughed as it hit the wall harmlessly. 

"I take that as a yes."

The two circled each other like hungry predators,watching their opponent closely.

Without warning, Riddle reared his arm back to deliver another green unforgivable, the incantation to his lips. 

"Expeliamus!" Harry roared, wondering if he was fast enough to disturb the curse. 

Never did he expect Voldemort to die by his own curse. How extremely poetic. 

\----- 

Everything was silent for a few moments, as the spectators took in the scene. Students, Order members, Death Eaters, members of the DA. Everyone stared at the still corpse of the late Dark Lord in silent disbelief. Harry took in a breath. One part was done with. 

A heartbeat later and the Hall was filled with a thundering roar of cheers and cries of sheer joy. The people clapped so hard their hands must have hurt, and he could see tears on many dirty and blood splattered faces. He would probably be crying himself, if everything was truly over. It was not, however. 

All around the Great Hall, the remaining Death Eaters let their wands clatter to the floor, defeated. They had nothing left to make a stand for. 

Harry raised a hand to stop the people rushing over to congratulate him and celebrate his victory. He took a step back, towards Riddle’s corpse and clear of the crowd. His friends looked on with worry, at his serious face. 

"Alright, listen up everyone." 

He did not shout, but his voice carried easily, the crowd falling silent for him once again. 

A mere thought called the Elder Bark to his palm from the place it had rolled away from dead fingers. Harry closed the distance between himself and the corpse and sank to his knees. 

"Harry?" It was Hermione, voice strong, but with a tremble of uncertainty to it. 

Harry shook his head as an answer and with a sharp movement he stabbed the Elder Wand through the former Dark Lord's chest. 

Everyone in the Hall felt the energy explode, even the younger ones. Many stepped back, their bodies propelled by its overwhelming, unseeing force. It was almost stifling, as if the very air around them turned into lead, their lungs suddenly heavy and too full. 

For Harry most of all.

Memories, knowledge, energy, magic, everything that was of Voldemort was sucked in by the artifact and flowed through the one that was now the new owner of everything that had been Lord Voldemort. 

Death had kept his promise and everything had gone according to plan. ‘No rest for the wicked’ thought Harry, and pulled the wand free of the grey flesh. It was covered with thick black blood that sluggishly dripped to the stone floor. The boy-who-lived stood to face the crowd. 

A glance at the faces of the surrounding people revealed their reactions to what they had all just witnessed but most likely none had understood.  
Awe and disgust lay in open view on many faces. Terror and confusion on most. 

"By Right of Conquest, I have claimed everything Voldemort once held; his knowledge, his magic, his power. And, above all." Piercing green eyes surveyed the crowd. "His titles."

He expected protest, he expected questions and rage. The silence was deafening, however, aside from a few shocked gasps. Hermione’s was amongst those.

"I now hold ownership of all the House titles of Tom Marvolo Riddle, or Lord Voldemort, as well as ownership of all of his possessions."

He stepped away from the now shrivelled corpse and walked over to the side, where Lucius Malfoy stood, wide eyed and terrified. A gash near his hairline stained his white blond hair scarlet and dripped down his cheek. Harry had rarely witnessed such an expression from the man, and though he had greatly enjoyed it in the past, he felt no such joy at that moment. He grasped his left arm and the once proud man flinched, cowered by the most recent display of power. 

"And that includes his sworn servants."

With a swift movement he had the left sleeve of Lucius’ robe pushed up, revealing his Dark Mark against alabaster pale skin and forcefully pressed the blackened tip of the wand against it. 

The man shuddered as foreign magic was poured into the mark. And then he screamed. 

As if on queue, all of the remaining Death Eaters collapsed where they stood, cradling their left arms to their bodies and screaming in agony. Harry didn't even blink, even while the side of the Light retreated, letting go of any captured enemies as they writhed in pain. Before their eyes, the revealed mark on Lord Malfoy’s arm shifted and changed. When Harry stepped back, allowing the man to collapse in a heaving heap, the new Mark was clear for the others to see.

A circle within a triangle with a downward line splitting them both in two. The symbol of the Deathly Hallows, in a bright, green colour that shimmered gold, the same green as Harry's eyes.The same as the killing curse. 

Malfoy did not take his eyes off it, panting hard as he struggled to regain his breath, drenched in sweat and with tears staining his face. He looked like he had just gone a couple of rounds under a particularly potent Crucio. The rest of the collapsed Death Eaters did not look any better. 

"What have you done…?" sounded a disbelieving protest from Molly. 

"Any oaths bound to Voldemort are now bound to me. And any responsibilities under his name are mine as well. The fallen Dark Lord had a wide range of dealings in every part of the magic world. That will not change after his death. Gears set already in motion threaten to crash us at any moment, and someone needs to stand in the way of his legacy. Too many loyal to him remain, marked or not.

"I will take up that role. I am now Lord in his stead. Leave his corruption for me to deal with.  
Celebrate this victory and focus on clearing any further taint from our - your own ranks."

The faces of the people had started clearing from the initial confusion, as one by one they started grasping at the situation. That was a development nobody would have ever predicted.

Harry Potter. The new Dark Lord. And consequently, the second youngest one in history. 

"Harry, mate…" Ron. Of course it would be Ron to speak up first, his voice almost panicked. "Harry, what the hell are you thinking? We won…! We can simply get rid of every Death Eater to Azkaban and go back to our lives…!"

Harry shook his head. 

"It is not that easy, Ron. There will always be something remaining to take care of. Believe me. It is the only way."

"But…!"

"No, Ron. It is done now, it's already too late to go back."

Hermione laid a trembling hand on Ron’s shoulder to hold him back. The redhead cursed under his breath and rubbed a hand over his face, but didn't speak up any more. 

Harry turned back to Malfoy who appeared to have successfully gathered himself enough to be able to at least breathe properly again. 

"Mister Malfoy. Gather up the remaining Death Eaters present here in Malfoy manor. I am aware of the individual active Portkeys on every member of the inner circle. Everything will be explained shortly."

Lucius started at the unexpected command, but he did not protest. 

"As- as you command… my Lord."

His voice was hoarse and rough. The screams of pain the mark transformation had torn from his throat were still too fresh to allow him any decency of recollecting himself.  
One pale, trembling hand reached out to grasp at the hem of Potter's ruined robes and Malfoy leaned in closer, a gesture too familiar to some of the people present. Harry realised last second what the man intended to do and pulled his robes away with a sharp tug and a scowl, before Lucius had a chance to actually kiss it. 

"Anyone here that wishes to follow me and aid this new cause is welcome. Come and find me when you're ready."

His eyes took in the people gathered around him and his newly acquired Death Eaters. Nobody spoke up. Nobody had the nerve or the energy to speak up against the one who had just vanquished an evil that had plagued their world for decades. His eyes caught the despairing stare of Minerva McGonagal and he swallowed down guilt. 

"I'm sorry." he whispered. 

He was done here. 

On to the next order of business, then. 

"Malfoy."

The man had managed to get to his feet, albeit shakily, and he was helping others to their feet as well. Several of the defeated were in varying states of unconsciousness or incapacitation, and many were in need of immediate medical attention. 

There was nothing that could be done for them right there, however. 

"Yes, my Lord." Malfoy said, turning to him, wary.

Harry flicked the powerful wand in his possession and all of the dropped Death Eater wands that were still whole and intact flew in a pile at his feet. He gathered them in a bundle, shrunk it and threw it at Lucius, along with the man's own wand.

"Hurry it up."

Five minutes later all of the portkeys had been activated and the Death Eaters had disappeared.

\---------

Only Draco remained, who did not own a portkey himself. The young man had collapsed with his back against a far wall, cradling his arm to his torso protectively. His eyes flickered between the galthered forces of the Light and the space where his father had disappeared, the command from his new Lord clashing with Lucius’ desire to run up to his son and take him along. Draco did not belong in any group, as he had betrayed both. He had no idea how the recent unexpected developments would factor in his treatment. 

Potter was utterly mad. He had killed the most powerful dark wizard of recent history, and had taken his place as leader of the Dark forces within a solid ten minutes. He could understand the lack of reaction from the man's allies. It was a lot to take in. Nobody was willing to raise a wand against Harry Potter. He wondered how had no one accused him of possession yet, but that would most probably come later, when the haze of the battle was over and their minds clearer. 

Someone approached him and Draco’s head snapped up to catch Potter's eyes. He scrambled back against the wall, in a failed attempt to put more distance between himself and the insane man. 

Potter laughed. 

"Come on." He said, inclining his head towards the exit. 

Draco didn't move, eyeing the other warily. 

"Where?" he asked. 

Potter rolled his eyes and simply walked away. 

"Your mother is worried."

That had Draco on his feet and going after the other man faster than his busted knee and collection of bruises should have ever allowed him to. 

"Where is she? Is she okay?"

"Yes, Draco, she is fine."

It was not lost to the Slytherin that Potter had refrained from divulging where they were headed as they exited the Great Hall, under the still stunned eyes of several of the Light side. 

Draco followed Potter through ruined corridors and out to the castle grounds where he appeared to be heading straight towards the forest. 

"Where… Why the forest? My mother is in the forest?!" 

He had seen the giants and the centaurs and the acromantulas pouring out of the forest during the battle, when there was still light in the horizon. Now it was the early hours of the morning and only the light of the stars was there to guide them. He had no desire to die after he had managed to survive what he had. Could his mother truly be in the forest? And safe at that?

"Be quiet, Malfoy, and stay close."

Draco had to swallow down his fear but he listened to him and stepped closer. 

"Potter…?"

"What?"

"Do I need to call you ‘Lord’ now?" he asked quietly, valiantly trying to hold back his instinctive sneer. 

Potter only smirked. 

"Yep."

\-----------

Harry walked swiftly through the forest and stopped by the tree he had marked previously to retrieve the Stone of Resurrection. Draco stumbled tiredly and obviously uneasy behind him, but did not ask what he was doing. 

"Come on" he prompted as encouragement.

He took a straight line through the forest to the Shrieking Shack, unafraid of the residents of the darkness. At some point they passed by a small group of retreating centaurs, and the beastmen bowed their heads in respect as reply to his own bow. 

They had obviously witnessed the whole thing after the duel with Riddle, and their attitude suggested that they were not so against the idea of someone filling the Dark Lord's shoes for the greater good. That realisation held potential he did not have the time to ponder at the moment, but he filed the information away for later reviewing. It could prove extremely useful. 

At the edge of the forest, just out of the Willow's reach, Harry summoned his patronus, and send it over to calm the tree for his arrival. He had no doubt Narcissa Malfoy had made her way inside without issue. 

Hurrying down the steps of the shack, heart hammering against his chest, Harry opened the door to the main room. He hoped Snape had made it, that Narcissa had kept her word. 

The scene he encountered was worse than he had dared hope, but, admittedly, better than he had expected, really. 

Snape lay on the ground with his head on Narcissa’s lap, his neck still bleeding heavily over the woman's rich, silver robes. His chest rose and fell rapidly, breath hitching and bubbles of fresh blood foaming at the corner of his lips with each exhale.  
Narcissa had her wand up and she was muttering something Harry recognised as an advanced healing chant.  
Next to her he could see at least three empty blood replenishing potion bottles, and one that, if Harry had to guess, would be an antivenin. He cursed himself for not thinking of going through the professor's robes himself and administering them earlier. He should have known that with as paranoid as Snape was, of course he would have healing potions on his person. 

Draco stepped into the room behind him and gasped in horror, breaking Narcissa’s concentration. Not that the chant seemed to be having any effect anyway.

"Draco!" she exclaimed as her son run up to her and wrapped his arms around her neck. She held onto him fiercely, careful not to jostle the dying man. 

"How's he, Lady Malfoy?"

She eyed Harry with her calculating gaze without letting go of her son and pursed her lips. 

"He is dying. The healing and potions are only delaying the inevitable. The wound is cursed and the antivenin has no effect. He had a seizure, earlier. I am afraid it may be too late."

Harry let out a loud curse, pinching the bridge of his nose. Snape couldn't die. He wouldn't. The seizure of course was not what Narcissa had mistaken it for, but the torturous energy of the Mark as it changed owners. They were lucky the man had not perished by that alone. Stubborn bastard. 

"Let me give it a try."

"Do you even know the chant, mr. Potter?" she questioned with doubt in her voice. 

Harry knew the chant. Hermione had made sure to research it back in their sixth year, after Snape had used it on Draco. She had been fascinated with the spell when Harry had relayed the events. During the horcux hunt, she had all three of them learn advanced healing spells as well as muggle first aid. ‘Never know when you'll need to know how to manually set a bone, or stitch a wound’, she had said. 

With a painful pang in his heart, Harry pushed away the memory of Dobby. He had not been strong enough to save a life back then. It would not be the same, this time.

Pulling out the Elder Wand once again, Harry began to chant, the words coming easily to him. His headache had become worse after he had absorbed Riddle's knowledge as well, much worse, but he ignored it. He had a lot of things to take care of, his migraine could wait. 

With satisfaction he watched as the wound slowly sealed itself under the force of his magic, the blood flow lessening to a trickle. He smiled. That was manageable. He could feel the dark curse of Nagini’s teeth pulse in Snape’s veins, but he would need more than just his wand to break that. After all, it was a curse left behind by a horcux. 

Digging into his satchel Harry produced a bandage.

"Lady Malfoy, would you please hold his head up? I will need to bind the wound."

Narcissa wordlessly did as she was asked, eyes momentary flicking down at Snape with a glimmer that betrayed that she would indeed care, if the man perished. With careful, steady hands Harry rolled the fresh bandage around the potion master's neck, tightly enough to stem any remaining blood flow, for the moment at least, without restricting his airways. The professor seemed to breath a little easier after that, no longer bleeding out. Each inhale still rattled dangerously, however, and Harry knew he would have to address that soon. 

Narcissa turned to him as soon as he finished with the bandage. 

"How exactly did you do that, Mr. Potter?" 

The cold hostility in her voice was not unexpected. It was her nature to be suspicious of power she did not understand, as it was Lucius’ nature to crave a piece of it. It was Draco that stopped her line of questions, though. 

"Mother, don't." he pleaded, shaking his head. 

The Malfoy matriarch frowned upon taking in the look of fright on her son's face.

"As much as I would love to have a chat, there are many people waiting for us. And I have some things to take care of, before that." 

Draco nodded and Narcissa’s scowl deepened. 

"Please step back towards the wall." 

He levitated the unconscious professor with as much care as he possessed, and laid him onto the stained mattress at the other side of the wide room. Draco guided his mother along towards the far wall. Both mother and son were reluctant to let go of one another, and Harry felt a pleasant flutter at the thought. If there was one thing he was ever jealous of from Draco’s life, it that that very bond.

As soon as the Malfoys were out of the way, he turned his back to them and bowed towards the empty space. Narcissa scoffed.

"Mr. Potter, what in Merlin’s name--" 

Her sentence was cut short as Death materialized before Harry, the tall, hooded and dark figure easily reaching the ceiling with its intimidating height. Shadows followed the eerie form, eating away at the weak candle light and any starlight peeking from the boarded windows. The colours inside the room faded into dark greys, and Harry's breath ghosted as he huffed. Only thing still stark and bright even through the darkness that oozed towards the floor, was the blood that stained the old floorboards. Red and thick, already soaking through the weathered wood, Snape’s blood pooled innocently around Harry's feet, like fresh paint.

A whimper broke the unnatural silence that had spread through the room.

"It is done." Harry smiled towards the figure, rising. "The one who eight times defied you is dead, by my hand. Do I pass your trial?" 

The hooded figure nodded its accent, and offered Harry something with its skeletal hand. The Master of Death reached out and accepted it and Death gave a respectful bow before its Master. Then it disappeared into thin air, the candles easing into a steady, warm light yet again, colour bleeding back into the room as the shadows retracted.

Curiously glancing down at what Death had offered him, he caught glimpse of a tiny, pure white feather, resting into the palm of his hand. He recognised it immediately. 

Death truly had a dark sense of humour, Harry admitted bitterly as he tucked Hedwig’s feather into a secure pouch, holding back tears. 

He sighed.

"It's safe now." 

The Malfoys were huddled together against the far wall, arms wrapped around each other. Harry did not miss the way Narcissa had angled her body to put herself between Draco and the spot previously occupied by the otherworldly figure. That woman was truly fierce and fearless, when it came to her son. Harry's respect for her had grown immensely within the last hour due to that fact alone. Never would he underestimate a mother's love. He knew first hand how foolish a move that was.

"You should eat some chocolate when we get back." 

"Wh-what was that?" Draco Malfoy stammered, hoarse. "Potter, what was that?!" 

He was near hysterics. 

"Calm yourself, Malfoy." Harry said, eyes hard.

The Slytherin clamped his mouth shut and swallowed, hard. He tried again.

"Was… was that a Dementor, my… my Lord?" 

It looked like the words physically pained him to say. His mother whirled around to stare at him in disbelief at his form of address, shocked out of her stunned terror.

Harry simply grinned at the small victory.

"No. That was Death."

"Dea-- What the fuck?!"

"Language, Malfoy. I do not have time to explain now, we must be going. The surviving Death Eaters will be growing restless. Later."

He walked to Snape, to check on him. The man was pale and trembling, and a fever had started to set in. With gentle fingers, Harry brushed the hair back from the sweaty and bloody forehead, looking down at the man that had been protecting him for all those years. The man he owed his life to several times over. 

Carefully, he slid an arm around the professor's neck and shoulders, a wordless featherlight charm allowing him to lift the taller man easily into his arms, guiding his head to rest at his shoulder.

He turned to the two Malfoys.

"Retreat back to Malfoy manor. I will join you shortly. Lady Malfoy, you may apparate from here. The wards are weak so far out, still."

With his elbow he adjusted Snape into his arms. 

"And one last thing, before you go." Green eyes bore into the blue and grey of mother and son, respectively. "Nobody, and I mean nobody, is to learn of what has transpired in here tonight. Not even Lucius." He pointedly looked at Narcissa. "As far as anyone is concerned you were looking for your son the entire time. Am I understood?"

Mother and son nodded, hesitantly, and Narcissa was quick to tighten her embrace and disapparate taking her son along.

Harry did the same, putting all of his power into not jostling Snape as he appeared at the steps of Grimmauld place 12.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original title was "Dark Lord Harry".
> 
> The pairing(s) is(are) still undecided, but it _will_ be one of the two in the tags. We'll see~
> 
> Constructive criticism, comments, impressions, ideas for what to do next, opinions on pairings and suggestions on the title/summary/etc are all so, **so** very welcome~!!


	2. Getting Down to Business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rough, short chapter to get things going. As you can probably already guess, I love taking lore and magic mechanics liberties. You'll see a lot of that, please do not be alarmed~
> 
> Written in the train commuting to and from work.
> 
> Glaringly edited using only spellcheck. :P

“Kreacher!” Harry bellowed when he was through the threshold of the concealed house. The screams of the Black matriarch’s portrait filled the corridors as soon as the door was closed, but with a mere flick of Harry's fingers the curtains drew firmly shut again. He had no time to waste to the depiction of the hateful woman, not even to admire the feat of wandless magic he had just thoughtlessly performed perfectly. His steps were quick and steady, a frown on his face as he made his way to the closest room with a bed available. Snape was looking worse in Harry's arms and the Master of Death was growing more worried for the man every passing second. On the professor's neck, black lines were stark visible, peeking beneath the bandages and spreading along the ashen, bloodstained skin like corrupted veins in cobweb-like patterns. 

The old house elf popped softly next to Harry into a deep bow, hands tucked under the folds of the common house elf rags he was dressed in. 

“Yes, master Harry Potter sir. How can Kreacher serve?”

“Go to the apothecary and fetch as many blood replenishing potions, healing enhancers and antivenin you can find.” He dug deep into his pocket, searching, and scooped out a crumpled notepad page, just where Death promised him he'd find it. “Also, everything on this list. And fast.”

“Yes, Harry Potter sir.” said the elf and popped away. 

Harry set Snape down on the bed of a guestroom, one with lavishly decorated walls and furniture, all silver and black and green. 

“Don't worry, sir.” Harry mumbled, more for his own sake than the professor's. “I've got you.”

He set to work, casting diagnostic after diagnostic spell swiftly. The Elder Wand resonated in his hand, almost guiding him with its years of magical practice. The wand had no more need for its wizard to prove himself; Harry was its rightful owner once and for all, and the wand would work with him like it had with no other in the past.

Peeling back the bandage, Harry inspected the wounds carefully, assessing them. It was not a simple bite, not the clean, twin puncture holes one would see from a normal venomous snake. Nagini had torn into the man's neck ripping the flesh and tendons apart violently. The wound was deep, refusing to heal for good even after Harry's powerful spell, the horcux cursed venom eating its victim from the inside. With a flourish of the powerful wand Harry dug deep into the knowledge he had acquired not even a full hour prior, casting the most potent healing charms and curse suppression spells in his arsenal, hoping to at least contain the damage until he was able to fully dispel it. 

Snape’s face twitched in pain, even in his unconscious state, with every new spell. The flesh around the wound knitted itself together only for the newly formed tissue to turn black and corrupted after just a few minutes.

Information he had never learned himself flowed into his mind and guided his movements as he racked through his options for anything useful. In a desperate attempt to stem the curse from spreading, Harry pointed his wand straight onto the flesh beneath his hand and with a light cutting curse he carved two ancient runes into it. The rune for Ice and Stasis and the rune for Protection, carefully applying his magic in them in the process. The lines that marked the corruption halted their advances as dark, almost black blood flowed from the cuts in abundance, making Snape’s ruined robes sleek and heavy all over again around the neckline. It was not a permanent solution, it would not hold forever, but it would give Harry just the bit of time he needed to prepare. 

\------------------------------

Not even a full quarter of an hour later, Kreacher popped into the room. Several bottles of potions and ingredients clinked together as he levitated them neatly onto the desk and Harry looked up from where he was tucking the professor under the warm duvet. He had cleaned and changed the man out of his bloody clothing, revealing a whole new array of scars and bruises that lay hidden under the dark fabrics. He vehemently refused to start considering their origin and focused on the task at hand. The elf bowed nervously, an unhappy frown distorting his ugly face even more. 

“Master, there is several items on Master's list that Kreacher could not get from any of the apothecaries in Britain.Too rare, they told Kreacher, not for sale anywhere.” 

Harry had expected it, but that didn't stop the pang of dread in his stomach. The ingredients for what he needed to do ranged from the common slug tail to the most obscure and sought after items. Harry would get it, for that he had no doubt. The time it would take for him to do it was what worried him. 

He reached for the array of potions on the desk and calculated the dose for a man of Snape’s height and weight. Then he doubled that dose and carefully lifted the professor's head to pour the potions down his throat. 

“Kreacher, note the dose. I will have to leave for a few hours, I leave this man in your care.” He turned to look the elf in the eyes. “Administer the potions every hour and monitor his condition. If anything, and I mean _anything_ changes, you come and find me immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes, master Harry Potter. Kreacher is be watching the man very well.” Kreacher replied, puffing out his bony chest proudly.

Harry nodded. 

“Good.”

He turned away and with a final, worried glance to the professor he left the room, and then the house all together. With a finger on the mark of the Deathly Hallows that had bloomed on his forearm, he apparated to where the whole group of his former Death Eaters were. At Malfoy Manor. 

\------------------

The sight he faced upon his arrival was one of chaos and misery. Men and women were crowding the main halls of the manor, some still in their Death Eater standard getup of blank mask and black robes, while most had lost their masks - and some even their inner robes- somewhere along the way. Injured and wounded lay on couches and on the floor, the more able and knowledgeable tending to the worst of the wounds. There was no death, outside of the battle casualties, none that Harry had noted so far. He would have sensed it through the slave marks, if they had. 

Once the crowd noticed who it was that walked amongst them, they immediately stiffened. Some gasped whispers of surprise and fear could be heard, but soon Harry was surrounded by a parting crowd of people that stepped back and some even fell to their knees. Even some of the heavily injured, the ones still conscious and coherent, could be seen attempting to imitate their peers, in the presence of their new Lord. Harry held back bile from rising up his throat. He pointedly did not look at any of the terrified faces as he walked past them, his steps as brisk and swift as the image he had to maintain allowed. 

The third time someone attempted to kiss the scraps that remained of his robes Harry snapped, barely withholding a curse from flying towards the cultist. With a deep, calming breath he turned around, addressing everyone gathered. 

“Forget everything you knew of serving a Dark Lord. I am nothing like Voldemort and would hardly want to be. That insane man is gone, and now you will have to face the aftermath of your individual choices. But before that, there is an order to things. Tend to the wounded, make sure no more lives are lost today. When you're called, you will know it, have no doubt.” 

He turned away, starting down the corridor once more. 

“Oh, and one more thing.” 

Silence reigned amongst the servants.

“The next person to even _think_ of getting their mouth near my robes will be hexed to next Sunday. By Merlin’s beard, I mean it.”

\-----------------------------

The room where Lucius had holed himself up was pretty easy to find, considering Harry followed the trace of his mark. He assumed the whole family was gathered in the same place. Seeing as Draco’s Mark trace was also there, one could easily guess that Narcissa would not be very far. He took his time, walking down dreary but luxurious corridors filled with rich greens and silvers weaved into intricate patterns. It reminded Harry a lot of the kind of decorations one would find in Grimmault’s place, although much, much more flashy. He hated it immediately, the cold, impersonal kind of interior decoration designed to impress and intimidate. He had been into Malfoy Manor only once before - bodily, at least- but his opinion of it had still not changed. The warm, homey mess that was the Barrow in comparison was much more to Harry's liking than that. 

His musings were cut short as he arrived before what he assumed was the main study of the manor. The heavily adorned, double doors protested as he pushed them open, the wards weaved into the wood against uninvited intruders struggling to resist, but Harry barely even noticed them. 

Narcissa was the first to notice his arrival, seated onto the sofa next to her husband, her magic thick in the air. It was obvious she had been healing the man. Lucius’ head did not appear to be bleeding anymore, although his eyes were closed and his head was hanging heavily between his shoulders, leaning with his elbows on his knees. Draco was curled up on his mother's lap, seemingly uncaring about the blood that still stained the silvery silk, her hand gently stroking his hair. Harry wondered if they had time to fill her in about the latest developments. 

Lucius’ head snapped up when Harry appeared in the doorway. 

“M-my Lord!” he stammered, hurrying to stand up, eyes wide. 

He stood up too quickly it seemed, his hand shooting up to grab onto the armrest as swayed on the spot. Eyes bleary, he lowered himself to one knee, both as a surrender to his Lord and in an attempt to stop the room from spinning, Harry guessed. 

Draco had sat up from where he lay, but both he and his mother had not moved from their spots on the couch. They did stare at him warily however, which was the mildest reaction he had gotten so far, so Harry would count it as a win. Especially after what they both witnessed with Death. 

He sighed.

“Please do properly sit yourself, Mr. Malfoy. You look as if you might fall over. All this posing and prostrating is making my head hurt.” 

Almost dragging his feet, Harry sank heavily into the nearest armchair, wanting nothing more than to just close his eyes and sleep in that unexpectedly uncomfortable, lavish chair. Lucius stared at him in annoyed confusion, but he did lift himself onto trembling legs to sit back down onto the couch.

There was silence of a few minutes. Malfoy Senior did not dare speak, and it was not too difficult for one to guess why. He had no idea how to address his new Lord and no idea what his standing with the young man he had wronged one too many times in the past was. One wrong move and he could end up as dead as his previous master. For all he knew Harry had laid claim to the lot of them so that he would be free to exact his revenge any way he saw fit. Harry could read all of that on the old fox’s face, but did nothing to persuade him away from that line of thought. He might not be planning on a murderous spree of his former enemies, but he was still spiteful enough to allow Lucius Malfoy to suffer a bit, petty form of revenge as that was. Harry would get what he could, at that point. 

It was Narcissa that seemed to have had enough of the tension in the room and broke the silence first. 

“Lord Potter.” she addressed him respectfully. 

Harry turned his full attention to her, letting go of the fearful man previously trapped by his gaze. 

“If I may ask… What are your plans for us now?” 

“By you, I assume you mean your family, not the lot out there.” 

“Yes.”

Harry regarded her carefully, thinking before answering. 

“You, Lady Malfoy are not under my jurisdiction, it is not on me to bring you to justice for being an accomplish to your husband, not anymore. I do understand that whatever crimes you may have committed were in order to protect your family. However.” 

Harry stood to pace towards the hardwood desk at the center of the room and lean again it. 

“Your son and your husband belong to me now.”  
All three Malfoys tensed at the statement.

“Whatever I decide to do with them it would be within my right. That mark-- the “Dark Mark” as everyone calls it, do you know what it really is?” 

The tightening of Lucius’ jaw revealed that he did have an inclination. 

“Do tell me, Lucius. Did you properly think it through when you accepted a slave mark branded upon you? You must have, seeing as you had your son get a matching one.” Harry smirked, cruelly. 

“I had no other bloody choice.” Lucius growled, before he had the chance to hold himself back.

“I know” was Harry's reply, and Lucius’ mouth clamped shut. “Your crimes still hold, though, and that excuse will only get you so far.”

He turned back to Narcissa, whose eyes had turned hard. 

“To your question now, Lady Malfoy. Today, your actions have been invaluable to me. I owe you my life, and I owe you a favour. As a reward, you will be protected by me, even though you do not bear the mark of ownership and therefore are not technically my responsibility. Your favour, you may collect it at any time, but do be aware of what you may ask for.”

“I ask for leniency and protection for my son. He is not to come of harm, and not to be charged with any crimes for his actions in this war.”

“I cannot say I did not expect that.” Harry chuckled. “Lady Malfoy, your son, although he is a downright infuriating, entitled, spoiled and selfish pratt--” 

Draco went more red in the face with every word, trapped between being obscenely offended and being completely unable to do anything about it, and so he appeared to settle for a neutral sour lemon face. Harry treasured every moment of it.

“--is as much of a victim of Voldemort’s terror as any of us. He had one task and he failed at it and that is very much in his favour at the moment. I'd suggest holding on to that debt, for I do not intend to be handing them out very often.”

She simply nodded, seemingly satisfied. 

“As for my plans in general… Let's get started on them shall we!” he declared merrily, clapping his hands together and pushing away from the desk.

“Draco and Lady Malfoy, you can go rest of you'd like, it has been quite the long day. You will be called in if its needed. I have business to discuss with Lucius here and it may take a while.” 

He smiled, and it did nothing to calm the wariness in the others’ eyes. Narcissa accepted the dismissal with grace, standing up and inclining her head in a small bow before exiting the room, almost dragging Draco along. He seemed almost reluctant to leave the room and Harry could only imagine that the Slytherin feared for his father. A logical fear. 

Finding himself alone with a rather obedient and resigned Lucius Malfoy was less of a marvel than Harry would have imagined. He paced for a bit, watching the other man, who appeared to be staring blankly at the floor. It was an unsettling sight. 

“Are you okay, mr. Malfoy?”

Lucius jumped at the sudden address, startled. 

“Huh?”

Yeah, no, he definitely was not. 

“I asked about your health. You do not seem to be fairing all that swell. Did your wife not heal you properly?”

The man seemed to take a moment to absorb the question. 

“It's nothing to be concerned about. My Lord. Merely the side effects of the healing.”

If Harry had to guess, that meant a concussion, as well as significant blood loss. Healing a concussion through magic left one disoriented and light headed, and blood could only be replenished safely with a potion, with the most common side effects being drowsiness and weakness as the body was spelled into working overtime. Harry had had his fair share of both cures, but usually he had the luxury of sleeping any unpleasant side effects off in the Hogwarts infirmary. . 

Sympathy for Lucius bloody Malfoy. Could his day get any weirder. 

Harry drew his wand.

“Time to get to business. Please stay still.”

He walked to Lucius, who did not move or flinch away, although his jaws were clenched. With a tap of the wand and a murmur, sparks erupted from the tip and the spell enveloped the man, a fading yellow light visibly sinking under his skin. Pale eyes brightened instantly, the older man becoming alert and awake as the magic took effect. 

“This…”

“Is highly inadvisable but necessary. Better than a Pepper Up at least, but prepare for a nasty hangover.”

Lucius nodded. 

“Thank you.”

Harry walked to the door.

“Follow me and be silent. Be alert and pay attention to everyone because you will be reviewing your memories later.”

“May I ask why, my Lord?” Lucius asked as they exited the study. 

“Your assignments are simple.” Harry answered as they walked. “I need from you to provide me with information on every person in this house as well as any I may name individually. Their heritage, their duties and assignments up until now.  
I am sure you have all of that information at hand even now. I expect them within the week. Yours included.”

Lucius’ complexion went a little bit paler than normal. 

“...As you wish, my Lord.”

“Also, there is this.” 

With a graceful flutter of his wand Harry had a list about half the size of the one of the missing ingredients in his hand. 

“I need everything on this list.”

“Potion ingredients?” said the man surprised, as he took the piece of parchment in his hand. 

“Ingredients, yes. I am pretty sure you will have no problem locating most of them.”

Lucius’ eyebrows rose further and further up to his hairline as he skimmed through the list, but he said nothing about it. 

“It can be done, My Lord, yes.”

“Good. You have three days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is!
> 
> Hopefully you enjoyed it, as short and full of blah blah as it was...!
> 
> It probably is not obvious (ha!) how much I adore torturing Lucius. He is one of my favourites after all. To all those that share this corner of hell with me, prepare for treats~
> 
> I haven't read the HP books in their original language, so I'm unfamiliar with Kreacher's speech patterns, I used an analysis of house elves throughout the HP universe I discovered to mix one up that would hopefully fit the character. Excuse my incompetence if I failed...! xP
> 
> Until next time! (whenever that might be...!)


	3. Unfinished Business And Other Luxuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone so, so much for all your comments and support!!!! I might not always answer, but I read them all! They are the only thing that managed to wake my lazy inspiration up and get me to start writing again so that I could (finally!) continue this unfinished chapter. 
> 
> I am not very sure I'm entirely happy with how the chapter actually turned out, as I wrote parts of it a bit fast, but hey, better than nothing, right? Right...! 
> 
> Enjoy~
> 
>  **Warning:** make sure you've read the tags.

Harry walked into the wide hall filled with the defeated Death eaters with slow, purposeful steps. He stood on the open doorway, casting his gaze upon the chaos of the gathered men and women, most of which had yet to notice his arrival. 

 

A glance was enough to calculate the rough number of losses the dark side had suffered during the battle and it was not insignificant. However, nobody could claim that the young man would shed any tears for those fallen. New Dark Lord he may be, but there was no love lost between him and those that had made their choices and had paid for them. Not when those choices had put so many innocents at risk. 

 

He leaned towards the elder Malfoy that dutifully followed at his heels.

 

"I want a complete list of losses from the battle as well as the names of anyone affiliated with Voldemort that you know of and is not present here. Marked or not. " 

 

The blonde flinched hard at the name and Harry snorted in a very undignified manner. 

 

"The man is dead, Malfoy. Get a grip. Now, give me your arm." 

 

"Yes, my lord" muttered Lucius. 

 

Cautiously, he offered his arm forward and Harry seized it from the wrist, pushing the black sleeve of the robe up in a painfully familiar way. Lucius had a rough idea of what Harry had in mind, Harry knew it by the sweat gathering at the man's temple. He was valiantly trying to remain composed. It was rather impressive, really. 

 

Drawing the elder wand Harry once again pressed it against the shimmering mark of the Hallows, making it flare up a brilliant gold. Gasps of pain and surprise echoed around the hall as everyone received the call. It was still rough, Harry was aware of his lack of practical experience. Having the memories of a sadistic maniac that gleefully send waves of torturous energy as a means of summons was way different than actually utilising the marks of ownership for their intended purpose. He'd get better at it in no time, he was certain. Practice makes perfect and all. 

 

He turned to the silent hall. 

 

"That was a summons." he announced. "When you feel your mark flare up like that I expect you to drop anything you are doing and answer my call. I am sure you all are familiar with the concept. Am I understood." 

 

Uncertain and fearful muttering of "yes my lord" and "understood" could be heard from those gathered and Harry frowned. A couple of voices that were surer of themselves echoed too loudly above the others in comparison. 

 

A flare of annoyance made Harry's brow twitch and he send a stronger wave of energy through the connection. Lucius' muscles beneath his fingers strained and he knew the energy was hurting the man, but his headache had drained every bit of patience from him. He had no desire to shift through the connections just to hand pick his targets so he send the signal to all except for one. The experience would serve as a warning either way. 

 

"I said" he punctuated each word "am I understood." 

 

An almost bellowing "YES MY LORD" echoed in a single unified voice, and Harry nodded. Riddle had his lot well trained, after all. 

 

"Good. Now, as we wait here for the last summoned strugglers, we got a few things to cover." he stepped forward letting go of Lucius' wrist and shoved his hands in his jean pockets in a casual looking manner. "I will call names and whoever hears theirs will step forward. You will answer my questions. You will follow my orders. Whoever I point at will step forward and announce their name and profession. Understood?" 

 

Once again the former followers of the deceased Dark Lord replied with one voice of "Yes my Lord". 

 

"Awesome." Harry smirked. "You first." he pointed at a younger man in the front row with a nod of his head, hands still resting in his pockets. 

 

The man looked barely in his late twenties, with shaggy blond hair and dull brown eyes. He sported a split lip and as he stepped trembling forward he seemed to be favoring his left side. 

 

"M-Marcus Graham, my lord…" he man stuttered in a small voice. "I used to work in a bookstore." 

 

"Why did you decide to join Voldemort, Graham?" 

 

The man flinched at the name and Harry waited impatiently for the answer. 

 

"To… to save my mother, my lord." he mumbled, eyes turning to the floor. 

 

"How many have you killed while in his service, Graham?" 

 

"... Two people, my lord."

 

Harry nodded, face grim. 

 

"Alright, next. You."

 

It went like that for a while. Harry picked the younger faces first, the more scared, haggard ones. The ones that had the 'unwilling follower' written on their forehead. With his hand he waved to Lucius to mark anyone that had a death count on their name. He'd deal with those individually, at some point. 

 

"Blake Winsor Jr. , sir" said the man, no older than early thirties in age. He held his shoulders straight and his posture stiff, militaristic. "I used to be an Auror trainee, sir. 

 

"Why did you join?"

 

"To save my life, sir." 

 

Harry narrowed his eyes. 

 

"And how many did you kill under his rule, Blake?" 

 

"...None, sir." 

 

A little bell of warning went into Harry's already aching skull and he almost hexed the man for that fact alone.a

 

"Is this your final answer, Blake?" 

 

His voice was harder than before, with a steely quality that unnerved even himself, but he didn't much care. He had no need to hide his displeasure. 

 

Blake swallowed hard but didn't answer. The crowd around him seemed to collectively take a fearful step back when Harry pushed away from the doorway he had been leaning his weight against to move towards the young man. 

 

Tired, red rimmed eyes widened as the new Lord advanced towards him, but Blake held his ground. Harry was quite impressed by the display if he were honest, for he could clearly see the vein in the man's neck pulsing with the skittering beat of his heart. If he were in a better mood he might have given the offender one more chance for mercy, but he was too raw, tired and in pain to have any patience remaining.

 

"You dare" said Harry, voice dangerous "lie in my face." 

 

"My… my lord I--" 

 

"You had your chance!" Harry barked.

 

He turned towards the rest of the crowd. 

 

"Don't any of you, for one moment think that just because I'm not Voldemort I am unwilling to punish. Whoever believes that being of Light means being merciful by default is a downright fool" he spat. 

 

Harry truly believed in mercy, he did. He had witnessed first hand what the result of a circle of hate and prejudice resulted to, he would never allow himself to not even try to break free of it. But extreme situations did often required extreme measures. He'd never be able to control a bunch of criminals, unwilling or not, by being a good and soft Dark Lord. Sometimes fire did require fire to be countered. 

 

"Do remember, all of you, you are criminals in the eyes of everyone that mattered in the war. No one will save you from your own choices. And my mercy is hardly infinite. So when I ask a question" Harry turned back towards the now trembling Death Eater "I do fully expect an honest answer." 

 

He was fully prepared to make an example of the man. No matter how it had happened, Harry could see clearly the death count he had directly caused during his lifetime in the form of small black spots tainting his spirit, faintly shimmering in the corner of Harry's vision when he focused. Harry himself had caused more than one death in the past year, so he couldn't condemn the man for that fact alone no matter how bitter he'd be about it, it was a war after all. But he would not tolerate disobedience from a Death Eater. 

 

The loud crashing of the double doors to the hall as they smashed against the walls had everyone whirl around, Blake and his imminent demise momentarily forgotten. 

 

**"My Lord!!"**

 

Harry would recognise that shrill, rough voice anywhere. He had heard it play again and again in his nightmares for years, mocking him, hurting him again and again her cackling giggles still ringing in his ears. His magic flared beneath his skin, answering readily to the white rage building inside him, before he managed to reign it in.

 

The crowd parted to let Bellatrix Lestrange pass, her usually insane features twisted into a wide, delighted smile that honestly looked painful. Harry was more disturbed by her smile that he ever had been while looking at that generally quite disturbing woman. She was favouring one leg but barely seemed to mind it, stumbling as fast as she could towards him. 

 

"My L---" 

 

Everyone watched as she laid eyes upon "her Lord", realisation hitting her upside the head so fast she visibly choked upon her own words. 

 

"Y-you….. You! YOU!!!" she snarled, spit flying from her ashen lips. "YOU ARE NOT THE DARK LORD, Y-YOU FILTHY WORM Y---" 

 

She did not get to finish her sentence. Her throat visibly constricted around whatever she intended to scream next, the skin around her eyes taunt by her bulging eyeballs, almost out for their sockets under the pressure already. Harry calmly walked towards her, his wand extended in a seemingly lazy grip. Tendrils of power oozed from him, so thick in the air it made the people closer to him gasp for breath. 

 

"I was waiting for you. So glad you decided to join us, why don't you take a seat." 

 

Belatrix's knees gave out with a sickening crunch and she collapsed into a kneeling position, unable to make a sound. 

 

"I am honestly surprised it took you so long. You were not at the main battle, we honestly missed you. I can think of several people on the top of my head that would have been delighted to get their wands on you."

 

He was secretly glad she had left the battle midway. 

Deranged and pathetic in her lust for the Dark the madwoman may be, but no one could dispute that she was a powerful witch and a dangerous opponent. He would not want her in a position to do any more damage than she already had,and he was almost thankful for whatever assignment the previous Dark Lord had given her. Almost. 

 

"Normally, I'd give any Death Eater the chance to speak out for themselves, defend their actions or whatever." He waved a hand dismissively at the last word for emphasis. "But you. You don't get that chance."

 

Harry stepped closer, leaning over the subdued woman till his mouth hovered close to her ear. 

 

"I'm just sad you were not there to witness the death of your beloved master. It might not have been enough to avenge Sirius, but I'd have been glad to see you weep when he lost a duel against a kid." 

 

He stepped back, waiting for the words to sink in, and a smile spread on his face when he saw the rage flash behind the bloodshot eyes of the woman. She struggled against the invisible pressure around her throat fruitlessly, her hands scrambling to free herself but only finding purchase against her own skin, her nails leaving behind angry red gushes where they dug into flesh. 

 

Harry brought up the hand holding his wand, pointing it towards Bellatrix once more, his cold smile still in place, and with a single diagonal slash it was over. A disgusting snap echoed in the silent hall and her body crumbled to the ground like a puppet whose strings got cut abruptly, the broken bones of her neck poking underneath the skin in a very unnatural and macabre way. 

 

Glassy eyes stared back at him sideways and Harry marveled at the resilience of his own stomach. He supposed that he should already be feeling something - - regret, guilt, horror at his own actions. But he felt nothing more than traces of relief that slowly trickled in and a strange giddiness pulsing in his sternum; a small speck of glee that if asked he would definitely attribute it to his migraine. 

 

Perhaps it was the memories of the previous Dark Lord that affected him. A lifetime of inflicting terror and torture upon the weaker must have left a lingering impression even through just the haze of memories imparted after the transfer. Or perhaps it could have been his own very literal mastery over Death, his own mortal (?) soul no longer phased by the mystery of the unknown beyond. 

 

No matter the source, Harry was fully aware of the impassive expression on his face, could imagine how cold his gaze must have been when he simply snapped the offending woman like a twig. He almost found humour in the reactions of the criminals surrounding him, ranging from obscenely flabbergasted, to confused to terrified. It was their first real clue that he was no longer the Golden Boy they had known him as, no longer the merciful hero that killed his adversary accidentally, not the soft boy that would surely be over his head when things eventually got too serious to handle. 

 

He had just murdered a disarmed witch in cold blood for the sake of revenge. 

 

And he would do it again. 

 

"So!" Harry turned away with an almost cheerful tilt in his voice, no longer sparing any attention for the broken corpse. "Blake, you were lying about something?" 

 

\---------

 

One almost tearful confession from Blake - he had convicted innocents for conspiracy against the Dark Lord, had assaulted members of the Order during a raid, had turned on his two Death Eater partners and murdered them during a dispute and had nicked ministry quills on several occasions - and about forty almost as fearfully successful interrogations later, Harry was walking away from the cluster of his defeated new minions exhausted. 

 

He vaguely waved towards the corpse that stood on a clear space at the center of the hall,  as no one was willing to get closer to it, fully expecting for someone to take care of it. He didn't even entertain the thought of claiming her power-- one psychopathic maniac's memories in his subconscious was one psychopathic maniac's memories too much. He was exhausted beyond belief. The last few hours of his life had been especially eventful, even compared against the rest of his considerably adventurous life, and he was about ready to collapse. He was holding onto consciousness and reason by sheer force of will at that point.

 

He dragged his feet back towards the main study, Lucius Malfoy still hesitantly following behind him as if he had no idea what he was to do with himself. The adrenaline spell had to be wearing off by then, and the blonde man had started looking as awful as Harry felt. Harry supposed he should give the man his tasks and let him sleep off the imminent crashing he was sure to experience soon. 

 

He turned halfway into the corridor to face the taller man. 

 

"I will be taking my leave now. Make sure I have that information and ingredients in my hands soon. Understood?" 

 

Lucius nodded, as composed as he could muster at that point (a surprising amount, apparently.) Pureblood Lords sure were trained to put up a good front, thought Harry.

 

"Yes, my Lord." 

 

"In twelve hours sharp have Malf-- Draco wait for me in the front entrance. He'll be coming with me for a while."

 

Lucius' head snapped up at that, his eyes wary. 

 

"Where will you be taking him?!" he snapped, tone harsher than any he had used since the change of leadership. 

 

"I believe that is none of your business now, is it, Malfoy."

 

He kept his own tone light, but thankfully the other man understood the threat for what it was. 

Harry could see that he bit deeply into his tongue to keep it from endangering him even more, his jaw clenched in dread-- fear of Harry, or fear for his son, Harry couldn't tell. Blood had stained at his teeth when he spoke next. 

 

"My… apologies, my Lord."

 

"Good. Twelve hours sharp. Oh, and the rest of the lot are not to go anywhere yet." 

 

"Understood, my Lord."

 

Lucius was swaying slightly on his feet at that point and Harry almost took pity on him. 

 

"Go sleep it off, Malfoy. You don't want to be on your feet in the next" he cast a quick _tempus_ with his fingers "eight or so minutes."

 

And with that he apparated away, from his spot in the corridor, within the ancient anti apparition wards that protected the Malfoy residence for hundreds of years. 

 

\--------------------------------

 

Harry almost crashed through the Grimmauld Place entrance. His migraine had reach a point where it was a constant, sharp ringing between his ears and the soft firelight from the embers resting within the sitting room floo stabbed at his eyes. He harried through the house to the room where the professor lay unconscious. 

 

Snape had not moved during his absence. Kreacher popped in excitedly to welcome him back and to feed the patient the instructed potions, but Harry couldn't pay any attention to the small elf. 

 

He leaned closer to the man, the rasping breath echoing too loud in his ears from so up close, and examined the runes carved into the pale neck. He let out an exhale when he found that they held, his worried brain finally calming down after what seemed like ages. With a final burst of magic he recharged the small symbols, empowering them to hold steady while he himself would be out like a light. 

 

Preferably, Harry would have loved to sleep for a week, but alas. The amount of work that was yet to be done was almost overwhelming, but Harry could not give up yet, he had come too far to abandon everything yet. 

 

His fingers gently brushed some of the blood soaked hair away from the older man's cheek. All his life he had been scared of the intimidating figure the tall, dark man cut. With his face constantly half hidden behind his hair, his hawkish nose poking behind the dark curtain and his cold, calculating eyes that could cower even the brave with one glare. Now though, the man looked nothing like that. Paler than normal, with his hair spread around his head in a tangled, crusty with blood and venom mess and his eyes hidden behind eyelids so bruised and sunken that they seemed almost transparent. He looked only a shadow of the formidable man the potions master truly was, and Harry found that he really, deeply despised that. 

 

With that as his final thought the new Dark Lord turned away, shuffling up the stairs and collapsing into the first bed that he came across, face first. He didn't even bother to take off his shoes, or his filthy clothes. 

 

"Kreacher" he muttered "wake me up in eight hours."

 

He didn't hear the response as he faded into sleep. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Imperial March playing out of tune in the background*
> 
>  
> 
> Cheers~!


End file.
